You Knew
by Inkwing
Summary: Nimueh knew someone would have to die in order for Arthur to be born. Uther knows that. But he thinks that someone was Ygraine.


"You _knew_ the price - do not deny that you, a priestess of the old religion, did not know - and you did it anyway. For that, I am forever your enemy."

"Yes, I knew." Nimueh agreed sliding closer to him across the floor, "I cast the spell fully knowing that in order for you to have a son, someone's life must be ended. I drew the marks of surrender, I spilt the blood and I said the words that would do it, knowing exactly what it would cost. But I was _wrong_ - I did not forsee -"

"Don't lie, witch!" He shouted into her pretty face, "You've just admitted that you cast the spell of death using the blood of my wife -"

"It was mine, Uther! My blood, my marks, "Desperate and furious, the sorceress threw up her own hands, palms facing him to show a perfect-circle scar carved into both of them - the marks of surrender, "_My_ life."

Uther was silent.

Breathing hard, as if the revelation had cost her as much as the original resolution, Nimueh turned to the window.

"I knew you loved Ygraine more than anything, the whole kingdom did, and I also knew that she could not give you an heir." Nimueh paused long enough for him to take a step forward, but whirled around like an angry cat when he did. "So I offered the magic my life; I wanted to give you what she never could - I wanted to prove to you how much I - how I had always..." The sorceress gave a dark, jarring laugh and turned her face half away, "What was the point of me without you? I thought...that this way, you would at least not forget me so easily. Arthur would be Ygraine's, of course, but I had hoped that in offering myself, I could live on with you, in some small way, through my usefulness, through your son..." Her large, dark eyes finally darted up to fix onto his, "I never meant for Ygraine to die."

Uther sat down heavily, grateful for the solid wood beneath him. It felt like that was all there was to hold his world up. What she was saying - its implications - Uther couldn't allow himself to think of it. Not now.

He swallowed, throat feeling transparent, "Then, how...?"

Nimueh's voice was emotionless, and her expression far-away; almost disappointed.

"I'm a magician, not a physician. I had not thought to question why Ygraine could not deliver a child, I had assumed it was simply another stitch in her destiny, in mine, but there was something wrong with her physically." Uther bristled; Nimueh didn't notice, "I have since learned that a women's insides must be certain way, and that any differing in size, composition, layout...things must be exactly perfect to avoid her splitting open from the inside upon delivery. Of course, usually the body senses this, and will not carry to term, but I forced your wife's body to do what it could not. In this way, I did kill her."

Her eyes re-focused on the King before her, for once, tinged with fear, but all she saw there was grief. It was infinitely worse; it seemed to empty the man from the inside out. Nimueh found herself talking, explaining, to fill the silence - as if that would help.

"I thought it had worked at first, I heard a newborn's cries, and I thought I was dead. I wasn't exactly happy, but I was relieved. When I realised I was still alive, I panicked - I scried you immediately. You can't imagine how scared I was that I might have killed you instead, "A shudder slipped down the length of her body at the memory, "But you were fine. I could see you, holding your son, overjoyed. I suppose you hadn't realised the cost yet. I didn't care enough to think of checking Ygraine. At the time, I just accepted it - I was amazed, of course, but I thought of a thousand explanations on my ride back; that some poor servant had died instead, that it had been an incredible coincidence and Ygraine had given birth naturally at the exact time of my spell, that your son was special in some way that meant the magic wanted him to live more than it did the Balance. I didn't know what I would do next, but I couldn't help feeling ecstatic, surely things could only improve between us - I'd done it - I'd given you a son, when she never could - I'd saved Camelot! I expected you to meet me at the border, I could practically see your smile..."

"And instead, I welcomed you back with a death sentence."

Nimueh said nothing.

"When did you realise that - that Ygraine had paid the price?" The king's head stayed bowed and the words dropped from his tongue like stones.

"When you came to see me in the dungeons. You couldn't even look at me, and you nearly ran me through when I asked after her. I was...surprised."

His fist clenched on the table, "Regretful?"

Aware that she was treading on broken glass, Nimueh spoke slowly, "I regretted that she had had to die. Ygraine was a fair and lively person, and she hadn't volunteered to die like I had."

"No, she hadn't."

Nimueh risked a step forward, then threw caution to the wind and crouched down before Uther to look into his face, "I believe she would have."

His mouth twisted, "How could you possibly know? You only met her twice."

"I know it because she loved you, just as she must have loved her unborn son, and all those who had died inside her before." Nimueh's voice sunk to a whisper, "I know because I would have, and she was your _wife_."

The sorceress' voice cracked on the last word, and that one syllable betrayed her. It was drenched in forty years' worth of bitterness and longing, and it made his eyes flicker up to hers for a second. She held his gaze with eyes like an owl's. On the table, Uther's hand forsook its fist, and stretched slightly, as if to -

The harsh sound of grinding wood split the quiet as the king shoved his chair back from her and rose to his feet, seeming twice his height. Nimueh closed her eyes.

"Yes," He spat, "She was my wife, and you did kill her, whether you meant to or not. I care nothing for the magic's balance, but I have my own sense of justice to uphold. I do not pardon you - you are still sentenced to death in Camelot." He drew his sword with a short scrape of metal, and it glinted in the moonlight between them; an barrier of steel.

Rising to her feet took longer than it should have for Nimueh and when she sighed, one could mistake her for looking her age. Her eyes looked older still.

"Why not, Uther? Why not just kill me yourself then, Uther, like you have done so many of my kind." Her beautiful face warped into something altogether more black, "I expected you to hate me when I found out about Ygraine; I thought you might even really kill me. I did not think that you would add, upon the guilt for having killed your innocent wife, the blood of a thousand of my own kind to my hands. That was cruel, even for what you've become. Do you know that your actions have shocked the Bone Druids, Uther - they, who sacrifice their own children for power?"

"Your kind is unnatural. They play with things that should be left alone - you are living proof of it!"

"So kill me!" She screeched, hair flying backward in a sudden gust of wind from nowhere, "I've already told you - there's no point in me. Do it!"

His blade did not shake, yet he hesitated. "I don't believe that, Nimueh. You're much to reasonable to still be alive if you don't see a point to it."

"If you don't kill me now, I'll kill _him_." Her voice was as deadly as poison seeping into your veins now, "Do you believe that?"

That almost did it. Uther stepped forward swiftly, sword angled toward her heart, and if he hadn't glanced at her face, and seen a truth she could not hide there, he would have struck. Instead, he tilted the blade at the last second, his lunge taking him forward so that the only thing that prevented him from barrelling straight into the sorceress was that his sword stuck in the wall, between two bricks, behind her, stopping him short.

For one, solitary heartbeat, he looked into her eyes, mere inches away, and saw her looking back with an expression that made his breath catch. Then her mouth moved and she was gone, a gust of wind all that was left behind, stirring the brick dust at his feet.

Uther let his head fall against the wall she had been backed up against. His mind tossed with a hundred shades of emotion - anger, guilt, grief, fear - but, as his gaze slid unseeingly to the point of the sword dug in-between the stones next to him, he knew he'd see Nimueh again. This would be resolved, one way or another. Uther was certain of it, he just wasn't certain that he didn't already know how he wanted it to end.


End file.
